Heading Out Toward Home
by Leydhawk
Summary: Sam Winchester and Tim McGee nearly lost everything. Now, they are trying to continue their relationship while still living apart and with very few people knowing about it. When a case brings both teams together, how will they cope with suddenly being outed? Slash. Third in the 'Home' series. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Heading Out Toward Home

_A/N This is the third story in the 'Home' series of Sam/Tim. The series began with Every Road Leads Home and continued with The Winding Road Leads Home. I hope you'll read those first. Please review._

Chapter One

Spending nearly two weeks with Sam Winchester at the men of letters bunker, even with Dean alternating between glares and confused looks, was thrilling to Timothy McGee. He'd convinced Sam he should start the long process of scanning the library into digital format so that eventually, the brothers would have the enormous resource searchable from anywhere. They spent at least a couple of hours each day working on it, and the rest of the time talking, taking long walks together, reading, listening to the vintage records, and even watching movies with Dean.

"I would absolutely love to introduce you to my partner Tony, Dean. You two would be able to go on for hours about movies," Tim said after watching (re-watching, in Dean's case) Death Wish. Tim and Sam had kept glancing at each other through the film, but they'd seen how much Dean was enjoying himself and so they'd suffered through the viewing.

Afterward, Dean had been re-enacting his favorite lines, miming shooting bad guys and singing the praises of Charles Bronson as a tough guy. He'd paused at the mention of Tim's partner. "He's not another queer, is he?" Dean asked flippantly. Sam tensed, coiling to strike, but Tim stopped him.

"Tony is a bit of a womanizer. You'd like him, I bet. Just, don't use the word queer around him," Tim said mildly.

"Or anyone," Sam muttered darkly. Tim glanced at him but did not respond.

"Why not?"

"While he is quite a man's man, he'd take offense."

"Because...?"

"Because he's protective of me. Like a brother. He'd never let anyone else insult me," Tim smiled. "I think he reserves that right for himself."

Dean frowned and threw a, "Whatever," comment out, but he seemed thoughtful and soon withdrew to his room.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The following morning, Tim made sausage and pancakes, doing them up as pigs in blankets. Sam arched a brow at the choice, but Tim just smiled. Dean's reaction was enthusiastic, however, and Sam watched Tim after that, suspicious. They were mostly through eating when Tim struck. "I didn't seduce your little brother," Tim told Dean. It was something he'd sensed from Dean: suspicion.

"What?" Sam's head snapped back and forth between his lover and his brother. "You don't think that, do you?" Sam scoffed. Dean shrugged.

"Well you've never gone gay before- "

"I haven't 'gone gay' now! We're-" Tim stopped him with a touch to his arm. Sam turned on Tim in his annoyance. "How did you know he thought that?" He turned back to Dean. "How could you think that?"

"Sam, he's a big brother. I get it. Dean, this relationship is about our emotional connection. Believe me, the physical side of it was a total surprise to both of us. I care about your brother more than anything, and I would never hurt him or try to get him to do anything he doesn't want to do," Tim spoke with the utmost sincerity, and though Dean frowned, Tim thought the message had been received.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Watching Zombieland that night, Dean suggested a drinking game. "We drink when a rule pops up, when anything gets killed, when someone says the name of a place, and when anyone says zombie."

Sam stared at him. "Seriously?"

Tim laughed. "Sounds fun." Sam turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Sounds like a disaster, but it sounds fun. C'mon, Sam, let's try." Sam's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't see any subtext contradicting Tim's words in his eyes.

Thinking fast, Sam turned to Dean. "You drink whiskey. Tim drinks beer. I alternate, otherwise it's not fair."

Dean laughed. "You do know you're setting yourself up for the worst hangover of any of us, right? But okay, I'll handicap you guys," Dean chortled as he brought the bottled supplies out so they were ready. "Let's do this!" Sam double checked with a look to Tim, but he was still smiling, so Sam shrugged and picked up a beer.

Not long into the movie, Sam was glad they'd agreed as he listened to Tim giggle. He'd been pretty serious since their near break-up, so seeing him unwind let some part of Sam relax that he hadn't known was tense. Dean kept up his normal commentary of yelling at the screen, but the more they drank, the less it bothered Sam. Tim leaned against Sam, laughing hard at a scene, and Sam put his arm around him. From there, the tipsy giggling became surreptitious groping with innocent looks whenever Dean glanced over. By the time the credits rolled, Sam had one leg crossed with his ankle on his knee trying to hide his tented jeans and Tim was half-curled up against him on the couch, the position also hiding his arousal.

"You two... I'm glad you liked the movie, but you're like a couple of teenagers! I'm going to bed and I don't want to hear anything, got it?" Dean frowned as he stood up and stretched. His stride was rock steady even with all the alcohol he'd imbibed, and Tim also frowned for a moment, understanding anew the level of drinking Dean must do regularly to have such a tolerance. As soon as Dean was out of sight, Sam's tongue in his ear distracted Tim from any further contemplation.

"You really wanna try to have sex with your brother in the next room?" Tim asked. Sam's hand slid under his shirt and pinched his nipple in response, working his mouth down Tim's neck, biting and sucking. Tim moaned and Sam sat up.

"Shhh..."

"Oh _shit_," Tim muttered, knowing that neither of them was quiet during sex. He turned and bit Sam hard on the neck and he yelped. "_Shhh_," Tim smirked. Sam rolled his eyes, and they laughed. Heading back to Sam's bedroom, they stumbled slightly. Tim giggled again and Sam grinned at him.

"I love that sound. Have I told you that I love that sound? Baby, your laugh, that little giggle, is _so_ adorable..." He went on; babbling about the unbearable cuteness of Tim, and Tim just shook his head. In the bedroom, Sam pulled Tim down with him as he reclined on the bed. "Oh, baby, you're just... Perfect," Sam sighed.

"I'm not perfect, Sam, and I'm uncomfortable with you saying that," Tim protested.

"To me you are," Sam shrugged the request away. Tim compressed his lips.

"The first time I do something glaringly not perfect, what's gonna happen?" Sam gave him what looked disturbingly like a Gibbs 'don't ask stupid questions' look. Tim looked away.

"No pressure..." He muttered. Sam took him by the chin to be able to look at him eye to eye.

"You are perfect: for me. You are more than I ever hoped for. You're...you're my light, you know that. My sun. My moon and stars," Sam's eyes were shining like Tim had never seen. "You make me feel safe and loved and all snuggly and fuzzy." Tim cocked an eyebrow at the odd turn of phrase. "You're so smart and sexy and you're just a-fuckin'-mazing in bed, dude, like, outta this world," Sam was slurring, babbling, but Tim couldn't bear to stop him, he wanted to hear what crazy shit was going to come next. "I've come more since we got together than in the last, like, five years... Well, the last two anyway. I fucked a lot when I didn't have a soul. Like, a LOT, but baby it's so good with you and when we're apart I just beat off in the shower - sometimes twice a day - just thinking about you, god, your mouth. That fuckin' _lip_. That big 'ole pouty lip I just wanna - wanna- " He did it, then. He sucked on Tim's bottom lip, licking and tonguing it, moaning. Tim waited. It felt really weird, but Sam was enjoying it, and Tim had had enough beer to be docile and patient.

Sam eventually moved on and began kissing Tim in a more normal fashion. The thought of Sam masturbating in the shower thinking of him began to take hold of Tim's drunken imagination, and he moved, rolling over on top of Sam and humping against the hard lump he felt. "Tell me more about what you do in the shower," Tim said, releasing Sam's mouth and moving to his neck, his hands starting to unfasten Sam's shirt. Sam laughed, loudly, and a faint pounding came through the wall, Dean indicating his displeasure hearing them.

"Shhh, shhh," Tim giggled, putting his finger to Sam's lips. Sam grinned and sucked the finger into his mouth, sliding his tongue over it, down, probing at the webbing between his first and second digits. Tim's eyes grew wide and his lips formed a little circle. "Oh." Sam grinned then sucked hard enough to make Tim's fingertip throb, and the answering throb he felt in his groin made him groan. Releasing Tim's finger, Sam shifted their positions, pulling his shirt off and settling back down, legs entwined with Tim's so they could grind against one another's thighs. Then he set about removing Tim's shirt, slowly. The buttons seemed smaller than he remembered, and he frowned, then growled, then shrugged and yanked.

"_Sam_!" Tim whined, and there was more wall pounding. Buttons had flown wildly and Tim could tell from the ripping sound that the shirt was ruined. Sam laughed, stifling his own outburst as he mockingly shushed Tim. They both dissolved into giggles. "Dean's gonna be pissed," Tim whispered.

"Dean's always pissed," Sam replied. He moved them again, and Tim went with it, laying with Sam spooned behind him, his big hand more deftly unfastening Tim's pants and reaching in to free his throbbing cock. Tim bit both of his lips, sealing in the moan at the feel of Sam's calloused hand wrapping around him and beginning to stroke. Sam put his chin up on Tim's shoulder and whispered in his ear. "You wanna know what I do in the shower?" Tim nodded emphatically. "I start thinkin' about your hot mouth wrapped around my cock, getting me super hard, and I kinda give a little twist like this- " he had the head enveloped in his fingers, two on the head, two on the shaft, and with his wrist moving, stimulated Tim's dick right at his most sensitive point before taking another stroke down. When his hand came back up, he did it again and Tim shuddered and he arched back against where he could feel Sam's hard-on against his ass. "And then I'll start thinking about going down on you, and how good you taste and smell, and the smooth skin on my tongue when I'm deep-throating you, getting you all slick and ready and your voice saying my name over and over, it sounds like a prayer, baby, and then palming your ass and pulling you deep into me, god, you filling me up, and I have to brace myself against the wall, 'cause I'm working my dick so good, and I'm shakin' and thinkin' of how you feel pushing into me, spreading me open and just sliding home, it's like home, you're so _hard_, just hittin' it and hittin' it and I have to grit my teeth or just fuckin' _scream_ thinkin' about you coming inside me, and sometimes I'm just poundin' the wall and _fuck_, I miss you so much-"

Tim was panting, ready to explode with the hand-job and Sam's words, and he grabbed Sam's hand and stopped him, they turned over and Tim yanked Sam's pants off, and Sam moved and leaned down to suck on Tim, just enough to leave him slick and ready and Tim shoved Sam's legs up, raising his ass, ready for him, so ready, Tim pushed and Sam opened and Sam gritted his teeth and moaned low, deep in his throat and Tim choked, trying not to cry out at the heat and the grip, then he was thrusting, the friction so strong he could feel Sam turning inside out a little, but Sam's hips were meeting every deep movement, and his eyes were like fire, blazing his desire, his need, and his cock was jumping between them so Tim leaned forward so it could rub against his belly while he covered Sam's mouth with his own and they groaned into each other's mouths, stifling the sound while they writhed and Tim was shoving in - _so_ deep - _so_ hard, they were scooting up the bed until Sam was crushed against the headboard and Tim grabbed it for more leverage, deeper, harder, faster, and Sam's mouth was open in a silent howl as he came and Tim came, the bed rattling against the wall and Dean pounding and they didn't care they just came and came and _came_.

Afterward, they curled together, Sam's head on Tim's chest, Tim gently stroking his hair until Sam's breathing deepened and Tim knew he was asleep. Every moment with Sam was precious now. Sam had changed his mind, by some miracle, he'd chosen not to send Tim away like he'd first intended when he'd discovered they had been forced to fall in love. Tim wanted badly to believe that Sam was now utterly committed to him, but the night when Sam had tried to make him leave had left his trust broken. Sam was such an amazing person, strong and handsome, intelligent and funny, loving and compassionate; Tim had a tiny voice inside him telling him that he wasn't worthy of the love of such a person. So he shielded a part of himself and tucked away each memory he now created with Sam. Maybe if he had enough moments to cherish and recall he'd be able to survive when - _if_ \- something finally made Sam decide to leave him. Careful not to wake him, Tim kissed Sam's forehead and closed his eyes to sleep.

~~~SPNCIS~~~


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"I want to talk to Dean on my own before I go," Tim told Sam. They had another ten days, but Sam didn't like the thought of being apart from Tim for any length of time.

"I don't know if that's the best idea this time..." Sam prevaricated. Tim smiled.

"I know. But if we're all going to be part of each other's lives, so I think there are some things need saying."

But Dean avoided any chance if being alone with Tim. After Cas had disappeared, Dean had been restless and twice when Tim pushed to talk with him, he took off. The second time, Sam called him to check on him and was frustrated to find Dean had gone out on a hunt, with Benny.

"Y'know, Sam, maybe Benny isn't that bad for Dean," Tim suggested tentatively.

"He's a _vampire_."

"Yeah, you've met non-killer vampires before. I think you said Benny even looks like one of Lenore's guys," Tim touched Sam's arm, feeling the muscles in his forearm were as tense as cables under this sleeve. "Why are you so resistant to him trusting someone he fought back to back with the whole length of purgatory? Are you jealous?"

"Why would I be-I have no problem with him hunting with Cas, I'm not jealous!"

"Cas isn't human, either, though."

"But I know how much Cas cares about Dean. He'd never let anything happen to him."

"Maybe you should try to get to know Benny then, maybe you'd feel more comfortable."

"Tim, I don't...I just..." Sam shook his head. Tim let his hand slide down to Sam's and squeezed his fingers.

"You'll figure this out," Tim assured him.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Abby called every few days to check on them. Tim would talk with her for a little while, then she would demand to talk to Sam who would end up reassuring her that Tim was well taken care of, then laughing at one of her crazy ideas or comments before handing the phone back.

Tim and Sam had gone out for a walk together, and Sam had decided to get some running in, circling back to Tim every half mile or so. Though Castiel had sped the healing of Tim's gunshot wound, he knew the jouncing of running would be too painful, so he encouraged Sam to get his run in while they were out. Sam insisted on coming back to spend a few minutes with Tim each mile. With only two days until Tim was going home, Tim didn't mind Sam staying close.

Tim's phone rang as Sam headed back out for another loop. Abby chattered on about how everyone was doing, then asked to speak to Sam.

"He's out for a few minutes, Abs," Tim told her.

"So you can talk freely! Ooo, so how is it with Sam with his brother? People are so different with their families."

"Yeah, it is a new side of him. He's...less sure of himself, more sensitive to the little remarks he perceives as criticism, y'know?"

"Totally. You are so that way with Tony, and he's not even blood."

"Abby... It's gonna be really hard to leave Sam." Tim slowed his walking pace with the weight of his thoughts.

"Aww. Have you thought about asking him to move to Washington?"

"His work, with his brother...it's really important stuff. I don't want to ask him to choose." Tim's fear of which Sam would choose haunted the problem, hovering ever in the back of his mind.

"Well...his work brings him here, some. You'll be able to see him pretty often," Abby the optimist said.

"Yeah. I hope it'll be enough. See you in a few days, Abs."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Dean returned the day before Tim left, and though there was tension between the brothers, they didn't argue over Benny while Tim was there.

After dinner, Sam gave Tim a significant look then retreated to the bedroom.

"Dean, I want to-"

"I gotta make a beer run," Dean announced, snagging his jacket and heading toward the stairs. Tim set his jaw and moved to block his way. "Dude, I'll be back in like an hour."

"You've avoided being alone with me, but I have things to say to you that I don't want Sam to be here for. So just listen."

"Oh, c'mon, man-"

"Should I come with you? You might be more comfortable talking in your car," Tim suggested. Dean scowled.

"Fine. Say whatever it is you don't want Sammy to hear. Let's have it."

Tim took a deep breath before launching into the speech he'd thought about for so long. "I can take care of Sam. You don't know me, but I am a federal special agent. I'm in the top 3% for marksmanship and I've got hand to hand training from an Israeli assassin. I'm smart, Dean, and I will do anything to keep Sam safe. Your warrants? They're gone. I've made you both ghosts in every law enforcement database, and there's no one out there who's capable of tracing what I've done. I have Sam's back and I would die for him. I don't want us pulling on him like a rope in a tug-of-war. There's no competition between us, Sam's got a huge heart and he loves us both.

"You guys are heroes. You'd have medals and accolades if the world knew what you've done. I can't give you that, but I can give you this: you deserve to have your own life, not just as Sam's caretaker, and if you can learn to trust me, trust that he's safe when he's with me, then you have your chance to find your own happiness, too."

Dean stared hard at Tim, scowling. Tim met the look with a flinty one of his own. He knew it was time to show his steel. Dean looked like he was going to say something, then closed his mouth. He gave Tim a sharp pat on the shoulder and headed for the door, taking the steps two at a time.

"I'm gonna hit the bar instead. I'll be gone for a few hours, I think. See you tomorrow before you go," Dean said, then closed the door behind him. Tim smiled; he took it as a good sign that Dean would clear out so he and Sam could be alone. Rising up on his toes then back down, Tim practically skipped to the bedroom to tell Sam. He stopped outside the door with a better idea.

Stripping naked and leaving his clothes on the floor, Tim threw open the door and jumped inside dramatically posing like a superhero. Sam responded to the door crashing open like the seasoned fighter he was and he dropped to a crouch, gun in one hand, knife in the other.

"Tim?! What the hell?"

Tim laughed, blushing but maintaining his ridiculous posture, fists on hips, body angled, chest out, head high.

"I have successfully won Dean over. At least enough so he's given us the next few hours alone," Tim declared. Sam put the weapons away and approached, shaking his head quizzically.

"Baby, you're naked," Sam informed him as he drew close. The blush on Tim's cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes was the most adorable thing Sam had seen in a long time. Sam licked his lips, beginning to smile.

"Very observant, Sam," Tim again declared in his pseudo superhero voice. Then he waggled his eyebrows and dropped his chin to look at Sam from under his eyelashes. "Whatcha gonna do 'bout it?" He whispered mischievously. Sam just stood there, grinning, enjoying this goofy playfulness.

Tim waited, wondering how Sam would react. He was taken completely by surprise when Sam moved, displaying his lightning fast speed, wrapping his arms around Tim, lifting him, turning and with two strides, then chucking him onto the bed. Tim barely had time to gasp before Sam pounced on him, pinning him down with his superior weight and strength. Tim's uproarious laughter was cut off by Sam's mouth on his.

Playful and fun in contrast to the serious, soul searching love-making or the drunken intensity they'd been doing since their near break-up, they wrestled and laughed. Tim had to use tricks he'd learned from Mossad-trained former assassin Ziva to get the upper hand, but happily relinquished control when Sam, now naked, knelt straddling his chest.

Sam grinned and lined himself up, beginning to slide down onto Tim, impaling himself groaning at the friction, the sweet ache of fullness and watching Tim's surprise as this new position turn to intense pleasure, his pale skin flushing pink, mouth dropping open, eyes narrowing. Tim had no idea when or how Sam had managed to use lube to be ready for this, and he quickly found he didn't care. Sam couldn't lower himself any further so he began to rock his hips and tighten on Tim who cried out breathlessly. Reaching down to flutter his fingers on Tim's nipples, Sam was astonished at the explosion of words that flew from Tim in a torrent, his hips bucking wildly.

"Oh-fuck-Sam-Sam-Sam-god-I'm-gonna-come-that-feels-so-good-fuck-_fuck_-Sam-hot-so-hot-oh-my-_god_-so-tight-fuck-fuck!-Sam-_Sam-SAM_!"

Inspired, thrilled by Tim's reaction, Sam started sliding up and down his shaft, working his nipples, squeezing him tight and it was only moments before Tim exploded, howling and tossing his head, pounding the mattress with his fists.

They laughed breathlessly together, Sam shaking his head at the unexpected response he'd received. "What the hell was that, man?" Sam asked, holding the gasping, quivering Tim to his chest.

"I don't know," Tim panted. He was still feeling the twitching aftershocks and shuddered. "Just... Deep in you, both nipples, you laughing and smiling and playing... God, so happy, feeling like-like we're really actually okay again. I don't know, but damn! I liked that."

Sam stroked his hand down Tim's cheek, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip. "Me too. Seeing, hearing you get all wild... Man, that was awesome."

Tim moved up to kiss him, his hands wandering, wanting Sam to have some release as well, but Sam just kept it to a snuggle. Tim looked questioningly at him.

"We have a couple hours, you said. I want a fantasy, when you've recovered enough," Sam smirked. Tim laughed.

"Oh my god. The table?"

"Hmm, maybe right at the top of the stairs against the railing so that every time I walk into the bunker, that view will make me smile."

"Whatever you want, Sam. Wherever you want it."

Cradling Tim's face, Sam felt such a swell of affection that he swallowed hard and pulled Tim closer. He kept seeing something in Tim's eyes, a shadow: fear, maybe, or doubt, and it killed him. He had to find a way to get the clear, almost childlike trust and wonder back in those beautiful eyes.

An hour later, Tim closed his eyes, listening to Sam moan, crying out to him, voice booming through the vaulted ceilings from their position overlooking the heart of the bunker, carefully cataloging every sound his lover made as he stood behind him, buried deep, holding his hips and thrusting repeatedly. When Sam came, the rhythmic tightening drew Tim over as well, and as his orgasm concluded, he heard Sam laughing and opened his eyes.

Releasing the grip he'd had on the railing, Sam stood and pointed. Tim looked over the edge but couldn't see anything.

"I'm gonna hafta mop," Sam chortled. Tim smiled at Sam's juvenile amusement at having his semen splatter and ruffled his hair.

"Got some distance, huh?"

Sam examined the decorative railing. "I think I completely missed this and it all went over the edge. Ha!" He snickered. "Maybe I should leave it."

"Ugh, gross, Sam. Man, Dean brings out the kid in you for sure," Tim shook his head. Sam turned back to him, considering.

"Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" Sam thought back to all the pranks he and Dean had played on each other through the years as well as the reactions he surprised himself with sometimes when Dean did or said something that made Sam feel 10 years old.

Tim smiled at Sam's reaction, loving how intelligent and thoughtful Sam was. He enjoyed his playfulness as well, but leaving such a mess for Dean to find was just disgusting.

They cleaned up, showered, and were back at the stack of books they'd been scanning when Dean returned. He looked around suspiciously and eyed them before he dropped into a chair at the table and started surfing the internet.

An hour and three scanned books later, Dean called Sam's attention to a story he'd found. Tim came over to observe from a few feet away as they discussed the possibility of Dean's find being a case. Tim was surprised at how astute the brothers' investigative instincts were, but chided himself silently for the reaction. This was their profession, and from what he'd read, they were some of the best hunters around. Lack of organization among hunters seemed to reduce their effectiveness, but standing in the headquarters of a group which had been wiped out because they were a threat to the forces of evil helped Tim understand why. He couldn't help but think that with the internet as a resource, hunters might be able to safely get their communal act together, but he decided he'd have to think that through before broaching the subject to Sam.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Packed and loaded, Dean shook Tim's hand and then went back inside to let Sam have a private good-bye. Enfolding Tim in his arms, Sam felt his heart pound painfully. Parting was never easy, but this time seemed worse. Tim nuzzled his face into the crook of Sam's neck, breathing deeply of the scent of him, feeling Sam's hair against his cheek, squeezing his eyes closed when he felt them stinging. Sam held him tightly, feeling him tremble and being awash in helplessness to make him feel better.

"Now that Dean knows, I can be more open about wanting to find cases in the east. And I can talk on the phone more..." Sam's voice was thick with the emotion he tried not to give into. Tim nodded, indicating he'd heard but not responding otherwise. Sam stroked Tim's hair. "Ah, baby. We're gonna be okay," Sam whispered.

Tim soaked it in, the sound of Sam's voice, if not the words, his heat, the strength of his arms, fine tremors slowly fading as he lost himself in the moment, the comfort of being present.

But finally, it was time for Tim to leave or risk missing his flight. Sam offered that they could talk on the phone while Tim drove to the airport, and Tim accepted, taking comfort in the intimacy of Sam's voice low in his ear as they chatted randomly for the time it took for him to get to the car rental return. Pulling into the little parking lot, they said good-bye after Sam extracted a promise to let him know when he landed in DC.

Hollowness with an ache around the edges was all Tim felt as he made his way home, passing through the other travelers like a wraith. He dozed restlessly on the plane and sent Sam a short text as the other passengers rose to gather their carry-on luggage before following. He paid the taxi and carried his bags up into his apartment, dumping them in the living room before crawling into bed with an uneven sigh.

Back to life without Sam.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

_A/N Anyone else notice that Ty Olsson was one of Lenore's family (Eli) before he was Benny?_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Thanks for the follows, favs and reviews, especially leobutler!

Chapter 3

"I just don't get it," Dean remarked. The bones burned in the grave, and the brothers stood by, making sure the fire consumed everything. A simple haunting in eastern Colorado had been their first hunt since Tim had left.

"She was pissed because her dad drove her husband off," Sam said, speaking of the case.

"Not _that_. I get that. You and Tim," Dean said. He didn't want to poke the bear again, but he just couldn't leave it alone. Sam sighed.

"No one has ever known me like Tim does."

"So I don't know you?"

Sam frowned. "I'm not saying that. What I mean is, he knows me and not only does he love me, but he likes me. I guess it just feels like...sometimes, you don't like me all that much."

"You're my brother, Sammy."

"And he's my lover. It's a different relationship, dude."

"Of course it is. I just...you never showed interest in guys before."

"It's not guys," Sam groaned inwardly at saying it yet again. "I don't feel like I'm gay, Dean. It's just him."

"But you guys like...I mean, he said you're..." Dean couldn't bring himself to actually ask if Sam and Tim enjoyed gay sex.

"Yeah, yeah, we do all the things that couples do, and it's fantastic, man."

Dean's mouth twisted and he shook his head. That was not an image he wanted in his mind. Ever.

"I wish I could get you guys to spend more time together," Sam said. "Or at least that you could see that he and I are really good for each other."

"He's a cop."

"I know. But he understands what we do."

"And if one of his cop buddies finds out who he's..." Dean almost finished with a crude euphemism but stopped himself. He didn't really want to think of Sam playing 'hide the salami' with another dude.

"His boss already knows. Tim's gonna tell his co-workers... When the time is right."

"Uh-huh."

"I've met his best friend, his grandmother, and his boss. He's met you. We're getting there."

Dean sighed. "I don't get it."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Back in DC, Tim struggled to hide how well his angelically healed wound was doing, but figured he must have overplayed it when he ended up in the elevator, stopped between floors, with Gibbs.

"Are you okay, Tim?" Gibbs asked, and Tim looked at him sharply at the use of his first name.

"Yeah, Boss, I heal fast, my shoulder-"

"Not your shoulder. We'll get Ducky to sign you back on regular duty the end of the week," Gibbs jerked his head dismissively, his infamous eyes nearly glowing in the dim emergency lights as they seared into Tim's. "_You_."

Tim swallowed hard. "I...it's a tough road. Sam's brother..." He shook his head. "It's complicated." Tim hadn't planned to share the memory of That Night with anyone, even Abby, but the way Gibbs was looking at him, he had a feeling suddenly that if he needed to tell someone, this was his chance.

"You deserve the best. I saw how much Sam cares about you, but you can't allow anyone to ever treat you bad. You're worth more than that," Gibbs' words were stated flatly, but Tim cocked his head, sensing an undercurrent.

"...Boss?"

"I'm here for you, Tim."

"He...got scared. We, uh, we almost split up, I mean he-" Tim shuddered. "But we...it seems okay again. I just-what if he freaks out again? I can't... Boss, he's everything to me."

"You fight for what's yours, McGee. You fight hard and don't give up," Gibbs growled. Tim latched onto that, nodding. "But he better be damn well worth it."

The flood of sweet memories, of support and comfort and passion washed over Tim, a salve to the bruises on his heart from That Night. Sam was worth it. Definitely. "He is, Boss."

Gibbs gave him one more hard, searching look, the nodded once and threw the switch and they were moving again, back to the squad room, out of the twilight zone and back to work.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

T-Whats up? Thinking of you all the time.

S-Wendigo in SD. Nasty. Miss u.

T-Careful. U r indispensible.

S-:-)

~~~SPNCIS~~~

S-Stakeout. Will be up late. S'up?

T-Running down net bug office. Can u watch &amp; txt?

S-Yes. Been thinking of u.

T-Me too. Anything specific?

S-Counting time apart. 274 hrs.

T-;) geek

S-Like u don't

T-rather countdwn to seeing u again. Ideas?

S-maybe after this case-we're in OH

T-weekend maybe? If no cases come up... :-/

S-hope to be done by then, yeah.

T-so switch to countdown: 77 hrs, x fingers.

S-gotta go

~~~SPNCIS~~~

T-Late one...u up?

S-always for u. Finish case?

T-not yet. De-encrypt running.

S-D asleep, snoring. Am aching missing you...

T-wish I could come home &amp; have u waiting. Cold bed uninviting.

S-my bed warm right now but arms empty

T-thought u hug a pillow?

S-rather be hugging u

T-Miss u Sam

S-whats our countdwn at? &amp; chances?

T-43 hrs. 60/40 in favor on my end. U?

S-got ID, gathering supplies, will go tomorrw night, so I'm closer to 80/20

T-decrypt done. Sleep well.

S-get some sleep before I see u, baby

~~~SPNCIS~~~

S-U like sunsets?

T-sure...why?

S-dislocated my shoulder. Bruise should be spectacular by time I see u. Pls say still on?

T-watching G in interrogation. Just a matter of time. Are u really ok?

S-fine, baby. You'll just have to be gentle.

T-Like a delicate flower?

S-bite me

T-I will, just not on that shoulder gotta go

~~~SPNCIS~~~

T-getting out of the city now. Should make Aurora by midnight

S-almost there now. Will be waiting in warm bed.

T-I love you!

S-room 112

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam left the door unlocked and went to bed. He tossed fitfully, his shoulder aching, checking the clock every half hour or so. Exhaustion overwhelmed him eventually, and when Tim came in, he found Sam sprawled, breathing deeply.

Tim locked up and stripped his clothing off. He stood and drank in the sight of Sam before sitting down, a part of him finding peace from an unrecognized ache of separation. Sam jolted awake, but relaxed when his mind registered that it was Tim.

"Oh, baby, it's so good to see you," Sam murmured sleepily. He sat up and awkwardly hugged Tim.

"How's your shoulder?" Tim asked, gingerly holding him.

"Aches. It'll be okay in a few days. Mmm, lay down. Come here," Sam lay on his back and pulled Tim close against his side. Tim sighed, resting his head on Sam's chest, drawing in the scent of him, the warmth, and relaxing as he hadn't since they'd last seen each other.

"I missed you. It's...getting harder to be away from you," Tim whispered. Sam stroked his back.

"I know. Me too."

Tim tightened his grip on Sam and closed his eyes. "What are we gonna do?"

"Talk. Tomorrow, Tim. Go to sleep," Sam answered and kissed the top of Tim's head.

"The bed's warm. Thank you."

"Good-night, baby."

"Night, Sam."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam wanted to offer Tim something. He knew that there was still a dark undercurrent to their interactions; that the pure sweetness of their early time together was gone, and he needed to try to mend the hurt he still saw in Tim's expression in unguarded moments. He got up early and painfully dressed, going out and bringing breakfast back. Tim seemed pleased by his efforts, so after they'd eaten, Sam moved forward with his idea.

"Baby, you've said you don't get to touch me enough, so I want you to. I'm here, now, this whole rest of the weekend. I'm yours. Touch me anytime, in any way you like," Sam offered.

"Really? Can I... I mean, I, um, I want to-to just study you, up close. I want to memorize every inch of your skin, I want to examine every... Um, is that weird? Am I creepy?" Tim's self-consciousness invaded him.

Sam smiled and took his hand. "Tim. I don't care if it's weird or creepy-and I honestly don't think it's either. If it's what you want, it's what I want."

Tim nodded slowly, then turned and pressed Sam back onto the bed, climbing on top of him and straddling his legs. Sam grinned, but the expression faded at the intensity radiating from Tim, hot, and a bit intimidating as Tim's eyes keenly examined Sam. Sam could sense him cataloging information he gathered. Tim didn't have a photographic memory but had trained his mind through years of practice to nearly perfect recall if he studied something. Being his subject of scrutiny was exciting in a very discomfiting way.

Tim touched the angles and planes of Sam's face delicately and suddenly Sam's heart was so full he had to swallow hard to keep calm. Tim focused his entire attention on how Sam's face looked and felt: the greens and browns in his iris', the sharp point of his nose flanked by the curve of his nostrils, texture and shade of his skin, the exact placement of each freckle and mole, where his beard began, and on and on, following every detail he took notice of and filing the information into his mind.

Sensitive fingertips brushed across Sam's eyelashes, traced along his lower lids, and both hands went back across his temples and into his hair. The ecstatic look on Tim's face, lips parted, pupils dilated, his breath quickening, all made Sam stare in wonderment. The sensation of Tim's fingers stroking his scalp and running through the length of his hair gave Sam shivers and the silky strands brought Tim's investigation to another level. Identifying details had been an intellectually fueled exercise; suddenly he found his interest had shifted to the sensual exploration of his lover.

Tim leaned close and kissed Sam's cheek lightly. Sam heard him inhale and his breath hummed as he exhaled. Sam trembled.

The perlustration of Sam had become more about experiencing him; it was suddenly a sexual investigation. Tim's long fingers went to the buttons of Sam's shirt, and he paused with his eyes flickering up for permission. Sam smiled and nodded, and with a little bite to his lip, Tim undid the shirt and sighed at the skin revealed. He stroked his fingertips lightly down Sam's throat and onto his chest. Tim leaned down closer, examining the texture of his skin, smelling the incredibly male scent. He sat up and pulled Sam upright so he could carefully remove his shirt. The shoulder Sam had injured did indeed have nearly every color of the rainbow on it. Tim stroked the discolored skin with just a whispering brush of fingertips. The flesh was noticeably hotter than the rest of Sam.

"Have you iced this? You sure it's okay?" Tim asked. Sam smiled at his concern.

"It's fine. Sore is all. It's one advantage of being kinda pumped up; the muscles support the joint better. And I heal fast."

"How fast? Is Cas back yet?" Tim was distracted. Sam shook his head, frowning.

"Dean said he's not answering."

"Have you tried? I mean, do you..."

"Pray? To Cas? Not too often, he's... He's kinda more Dean's-"

"Special friend?" Tim suggested slyly. Sam laughed.

"I guess."

"He seems rather... Flakey. I was gonna say flighty, but-"

Sam groaned and smiled. "Yeah, bad pun for an angel. He's...he's there for Dean when it counts."

"Hmm. Did you know the Supernatural books are online and continually updated?"

"What?!" Sam pushed himself to sit up. "Are they-are you, we...?"

Tim sighed. "Yeah. But the reason I brought it up-"

"Oh my god, people know we're lovers? Talk about being outed-"

"Most people think they're fiction, Sam. There's backlash among fans, but they think they're discussing made-up characters. But Dean and-"

Sam groaned. For some reason, imagining his superfan Becky, who knew they were real people, reading the newer installments and getting upset, or worse, getting excited... It bothered him.

"I'm sorry I brought it up. I just, if it's not total blasphemy, I noticed that Cas is kind of a flake and Benny is completely bulldog loyal. You might give him more credit."

Sam shifted, shaking his legs and Tim climbed off him, regretting the turn of his thoughts that had brought him mention it now. "Benny? You're championing a vampire? What the crap?"

"Now you sound like Dean. Just look at the evidence, that's all I'm saying."

"Evidence? What, that he rode Dean bareback out of purgatory?" Sam's tone was acid. Tim flinched at the crude interpretation of how Dean had used a spell to absorb Benny's spirit and reunite it with his body after Dean had returned.

"He hasn't told you anything, has he?" Tim shook his head and went to get his tablet computer. He pulled up the Supernatural stories and scrolled through to Dean in Purgatory. "I think you need to know."

So Sam read and learned what Dean had been through, the months, or maybe years with how time twisted in other planes, of running and fighting every monster imaginable, searching for Cas and finally being joined by Benny, the vampire providing backup and helping him find a way out. While guilt threatened to swamp him, he also began to understand Dean's anger that Sam hadn't tried to get him out. Sam acknowledged to himself that he really hadn't known where Dean had gone; just that Dean and Cas had vanished when they killed the leader of the leviathan. If he had known Dean and Cas were in purgatory, the plane populated by the souls of all the monsters who died in the real world, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have turned his back on hunting and dealing with all things supernatural. But he wasn't sure. He might have made the same choice, following the promise the brothers made to go on to live a normal life if one of them died. He'd never know now, but learning more about Benny, he had to grudgingly acknowledge that the vampire had been staunchly loyal thus far. And more reliable than Cas, as Tim had pointed out.

He read further, getting into the depiction of his relationship with Tim but pushed the computer away at the graphic description of their first weekend together exploring the sexuality of their new experience.

Tim looked over from his seat at the desk when he saw Sam was finished reading. Sam met his eyes and nodded. "Okay. I get it. I don't like it, but... I'll ease up on Dean about Benny, okay?" Tim smiled in relief and came back to the bed. He set the computer aside and stretched out on his side, head resting on his fist, facing Sam.

Studying Tim's face, Sam was surprised, as always, at the intensity of the feelings that rose in him. "Ah, baby. Thank you for caring about my relationship with Dean. You amaze me."

Tim gave a half-shrug. "It's more about trying to get you to see it clearly." He wasn't going to admit to his selfish motivations and the hope he held that maybe Sam might eventually be able to break free of the unhealthy attachment he and Dean shared. He felt torn between his hoping that have a future together and his fear that Sam would bail. He tried to prepare for both, but, remembering Gibbs' advice, leaned into the hope. "So... Where were we?"

Sam grinned and followed the change of topic readily. "I know you weren't all the way over there, that's for sure," he replied. Tim wriggled closer, pressing against Sam's side. Sam put his arm around him, savoring the closeness of the whole length of Tim's body pressed to him from feet to lips. They kissed slowly, sensuously, and Tim's lithe fingers went back to stroking and examining Sam's skin. The differing textures of nearly hairless biceps from softly follicled forearms fascinated Tim, and he explored each with fingertips, palms, lips, and tongue. He paid the same attention to Sam's chest, avoiding his nipples to allow his investigation to continue instead of being curtailed by where that would lead. Stripping Sam's jeans, Tim spent time inspecting Sam's lean legs. On every part of Sam he scrutinized, there were scars. He paid homage to each; grateful few injuries had been serious enough to take Sam from the world before they found love together. The thick scar on Sam's back by his spine received special attention. It was the first death-blow he'd experienced, and Tim had to acknowledge his gratitude that Dean had traded his soul to hell to bring Sam back to life all those years ago. The relationship the brothers shared was unhealthy, but as allies in the continuous life and death struggle against evil, it was understandable. Tim's mind always shied away from what he might be capable of if Sam were in danger. His experience with the fantastic was limited, but he understood enough to recognize the dark path that was available.

Rolling Sam back over, his contemplation of the fragility of their bodies filled Tim with a need to experience the ultimate life-affirming act. Sam had enjoyed seeing and feeling Tim touch and kiss and taste his skin, but he saw the different look in his lover's eyes when his agenda changed and his body responded immediately.

Tim started again, this time giving all his attention to the spots he'd avoided before for their titillating effect. Ears, neck, nipples, Tim spent time on each until Sam was groaning and bucking his hips up against Tim, trying to get Tim to go faster. Tim kept his pace slow, however, enjoying his total control over Sam's sexual response.

"Oh, shit, Tim, you're making me crazy!" Sam complained. Tim grinned as he withdrew completely to stand beside the bed. Sam whined lowly, nearly growling, but grew eager when Tim unbuttoned his pants and stripped naked. He returned to his place beside Sam and ran his fingertips over the underside of Sam's leaking hard-on.

"What do you want, Sam?" Tim asked softly. Sam gasped unevenly and turned his head to look into Tim's eyes.

"You, baby," he whispered. "Inside me."

Tim's cheeks burned at the rush he felt at the words and he reached quickly for the lube. In moments he was ready and pushing Sam's legs up. Tim entered him in a long, smooth thrust. Sam cried out, their eyes locked. Sam then lay gasping, and Tim took a long pause, relishing the heat and pressure of being buried fully within his lover. Sam clenched his muscles and Tim's breath exploded in a loud groan, followed by whimpering pants. Intense was too mild a word. Overwhelming was closer to how it felt when Sam clamped down like that, and Tim's entire body shook in reaction.

Sam nodded, and Tim slowly withdrew, every millimeter of movement sending both their arousal higher. Sweat broke out on Sam's face, and when Tim pressed forward again, Sam's eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open. Tim kept tight control, his actions as precise as he could make them for the next few thrusts. When he lost control and sped up, Sam's moans only encouraged him.

Sam raised his hips to meet Tim's every driving plunge. The movements inside him were sending waves of intense pleasure throughout his body. It was an agonizing level of rapture, unbearable, but unstoppable. Every part of him tingled; his fingers, his scalp: he was transported.

"Yes! Yes, Tim, oh god, yes!" He cried, nearly mindless. His deep voice resonated through the room, inspiring Tim further.

Tim wondered at Sam's reaction. He was enjoying himself, but something had Sam more wildly ecstatic than ever before. He tried to keep doing exactly what he had been; wanting to continue to give Sam what was obviously a fantastic experience. Watching Sam's face, red and tightly clenched in a glorious agonized expression filled Tim with tenderness. It was beautiful: his sounds, crying out to Tim, panting, grunting. Tim's whole world centered on Sam, every sensation, smell, sound, and sight of him. When Tim felt and saw Sam tense further, indicating he was building to his climax, he sped up slightly. Sam was inarticulate, shouting in short bursts with each penetration. His hands suddenly came up to Tim's arms and clutched them in a powerful grip that had Tim concerned about Sam's injured shoulder. But as Tim watched tears leak from the corners of Sam's closed eyes, he sensed the hold on him was to ground him somehow amidst the maelstrom of his overwhelmed senses.

"I've got you, Sam. Let go, love, just let go. Fly with me, Sam. I've got you. Come on, love, my love, oh, Sam, I've got you," Tim panted, reassuring, comforting. Sam's eyes opened, meeting Tim's loving gaze and he came explosively, howling and sobbing. His orgasm went on and on, and Tim was swept up in it, climaxing forcefully. The feeling of Tim coming inside him in hot pulses was too much for Sam, and Tim felt the hands go slack on his arms and watched in astonishment as Sam lost consciousness, his body still quivering with the final moments of his orgasm. Tim dropped onto Sam's chest, utterly spent, gasping and sweating and crying, his emotions jumbled by the experience.

~~~SPNCIS~~~


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Saying good-bye after the weekend spent almost entirely naked, and exhaustively sexually active, involved the same angst it always did. Splitting up again, they both went back to their lives, Tim trying to keep a hold of his hope that there would _be_ a next time, Sam finding he was growing weary of the drive to Kansas as well as being away from Tim. He also realized they had never talked about solutions to the pain of being apart, and he pondered possibilities as he drove.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

T-cold cases. :-P u?-

S-gonna try a hunt w/Benny. :-/-

T-proud of u. Dont kill him-

S-unless he goes bad, I know. He's a really solid presence, actually, and quiet w/o the staring like Cas-

T-heard from him?-

S-no, D might have, thought I heard him talking the night before we left. Just glared &amp; drank when I asked. WEIN?-

T-good luck on hunt-

S-may u solve a cold case-

T-:-) that'd be nice-

~~~SPNCIS~~~

In response to Sam being willing to have Benny along on a hunt and trying to be supportive in some way, the next case Dean found was in Maryland and he told Sam where they were going. "We'll, uh, schedule your-" (_Booty call, no, can't say that, can't even _think _that._) "-Time to see Tim, okay?" And Dean's efforts were rewarded as Sam's face lit up and he practically sang and danced through research and prep.

Deaths, incapacitating injuries, and accidents had all sharply increased in the last few years at the US Naval Academy. There had been investigations, and the administration had been almost completely replaced, but the problem persisted. Pre-texting as NSA was risky, but Sam flat out refused to use his knowledge of NCIS to pose as special agents from Tim's agency. They spent time interviewing family and friends off-base and minimized their contact with the Navy brass. With the change in personnel, it was beginning to look like either a haunting or demonic possession, so they got serious digging into the investigation from that angle.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Gibbs stalked down the stairs from Director Vance's office with a stack of folders. "Gear up. We're next on the Academy investigation. SecNav wants to know why we're losing midshipmen."

DiNozzo looked up. "Didn't another team already check that out?" He and the rest of the team stood and grabbed their equipment, following the boss to the elevator.

"Two teams. Two investigations, change in leadership and staff, no change in casualties. This ends with us."

Tim groaned inwardly, knowing an extended, in-depth investigation would leave him little time to see Sam, even while the detective in him stood straight, ears perked, for the challenge. Gibbs handed each of them files on the previous investigations. "You can read 'em on the way."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

"Hex bags and sulfur, seems pretty clear what we're dealing with."

"A freakin' demon witch? You gotta be kidding me!" Dean declared.

"Ruby, Crowley, Meg, they've done spells and stuff, too," Sam reminded him.

"Great. Just great."

"So... Witch-killing spell plus demon knife?" Sam suggested. Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. Cover all the bases."

They drove back to the motel but Dean didn't shut the car off when he parked. "You, uh, wanna go see Tim while I gather supplies?" Sam stared at him.

"Wow. I really appreciate the offer, but, uh, he's busy with a case right now."

"Okay. So, you keep narrowing down our suspects and I'll go shopping."

Sam nodded, frowning, and got out of the car. Dean didn't look at him when he backed out and drove off. Sam shook his head and went inside. He texted Tim to share the positive information that Dean had actually made allowances for their relationship but kept his concerns about Dean's strange behavior to himself.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The NCIS investigation at the Academy was so broad, the team so spread out, running through interviews, scene investigations, computer sweeps, and background checks, that it took days to get caught up on rechecking the other two investigations, let alone getting up to date on the more recent incidences. Dishearteningly, their hard work had given them only a single lead, a small leather bag filled with herbs and oddities tucked under the bed frame of a midshipman who had broken his leg so severely he was disqualified from eligibility for the navy and had returned home to Vermont. The bag was taken to Abby for analysis, but Gibbs was unprepared for her conclusions.

"It's a _gris-gris_."

"Abs?"

"They're like a magic talisman, Gibbs. Some are used for protection, good luck, even contraception, but others have a more sinister purpose," Abby gestured, waving her fingers between their faces. Gibbs shook his head once as if to tell her to get on with it. "Black magic. Voodoo. Curses, revenge, that sort of thing. See, this one had the skull of a rat, mandrake root-"

"Abby, how does this help us with the case?"

"Well, you may be looking for a priest or priestess, or maybe a witch. Not a Wiccan because they only do white magic, but an evil-" Abby frowned when Gibbs turned away. "Gibbs!"

"Call me when you got something real," he snapped as he left the lab.

"But magic _is_ real," she called after him, her mouth set in a frustrated line, eyes narrowed.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam dug into the personal lives of the people who might have had access to the places they'd found the hex bags. Hacking and reading years of email accounts for each suspect was a long, mostly boring, sometimes disturbing, process. He didn't notice until he was nearly dozing off how late the night had gotten. And that Dean had not returned. He called to check what might have distracted his brother. Dean answered just before the line would have forwarded to voicemail.

" - just shut up a second. Yeah, Sammy, what's up?"

"Who are you with?" Sam blurted. He'd intended to ask if Dean was okay, but it was apparent he was with someone and his suspicious curiosity overrode his concern.

The phone was muffled, but Sam heard Dean curse. "Damnit, Cas-" And then Dean was back on the line. "Uh, yeah, it's Cas, he just-he needs a favor. I've got the stuff. I'll be back tomorrow. I think. Depends. Look, I gotta go-"

The line died. Sam pursed his lips as he dropped his phone onto the desk beside his computer, then rubbed his face and pushed his hair back. Drama. Always drama with Dean and Cas.

Sam shut his laptop and picked his phone back up to send a quick good-night text to Tim, then he moved to his bed and sprawled out on top of the covers, intending to go directly to sleep. His phone buzzed with an incoming text, though, so he rolled over and looked at it.

T-I'm still awake, in bed, trying to relax to sleep. Wanna talk?

Sam quickly hit his speed dial.

"Hi, Sam. I'm glad you're up," Tim answered, speaking softly. Sam had read a sexual undercurrent to Tim's text and smiled as the low, slightly throaty sound of Tim's voice seemed to confirm his suspicion

"Kinda sounded like you're..._up_," Sam replied. He unfastened his jeans. Tim's almost sub-vocal chuckle had him reaching in to give a light tug to his thickening cock.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. I was thinking about Zombieland."

"Uh...huh?" Sam paused.

"You were pretty drunk. How much do you remember?"

"Well... Place names... Rules. You laughing. God, I love that," Sam replied. He wriggled out of his jeans and underwear, kicking them off the foot of the bed, and reached to undo the snaps on his shirt.

"And...after? Do you remember Dean telling us to be quiet?"

"I remember Dean being a dick the next morning, slamming doors and talking loud," Sam prevaricated.

"You don't recall why he was pissed?"

Sam grinned. He had a few flashes of memory and recalled being sore with more than a headache the next morning, but he wanted to hear Tim tell him what he remembered.

"Sort of. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Tim laughed. "You...! You just want to make me describe it all, don't you?"

"...please?"

The deep purring of Sam's voice in his ear made Tim's dick jump.

"Oh... I kinda like you begging. Gonna hafta make you do that again sometime," Tim whispered. Sam groaned.

"Oh, baby. Tell me what happened..._please_?"

"You told me how you...beat off in the shower thinking about me," Tim said. He wrapped his fingers around his dick just the way Sam had done that night.

"I...I had spooned you and started showing you, hadn't I?" Sam asked. He recalled the feel of his hard-on pressed against Tim's back through his pants, of the reach around, whispering to him.

"God, your hand, stroking me like that, and thinking, imagining you naked, the water cascading over your perfect body..."

"More. Tell me more," Sam murmured, wrapping his hand around himself and squeezing. He could hear Tim's breath growing heavier and he shuddered at the image in his mind of Tim, naked in bed, beating off.

"You - you almost made me come, but I wanted...to - to - "

"To fuck me. _Say it_," Sam ordered.

"_God, yes_, I wanted to fuck you. I tore your clothes off and I fucked you hard."

Sam let his fingers trail down, hiking one leg up, and he ran one finger over his twitching hole. He'd never touched himself that way, but thinking of Tim, remembering how good it felt when Tim pushed into him, the sweet ache of it, he switched the phone to speaker and set it on the pillow then reached for the lube he had put in the nightstand on the off chance Tim might be able to come meet him.

"How did you stay quiet? You're usually so loud..." Sam asked. He got the slick gel on his fingers and hesitantly ran his fingertip around the rim, shivering at the sensation.

"I bit my lip raw trying to contain myself. Oh god, sliding into you, so hot..." Tim sighed.

"Describe it. Please, baby, tell me how it is for you," Sam pushed one finger in, thinking of Tim pressing close.

"Oh, Sam, it - it's like..." Tim's strokes on himself sped up with the thought. "Like a fist. Like a tight elastic sheath that just... Kinda ripples, and sliding into you, burying myself deep, hearing you moan-"

Sam moaned, adding a second finger and starting to fuck himself. He took his cock in his other hand and choked at the dual sensation.

"_Tim_!"

"Yeah, yeah Sam, you moaning my name, it goes right through me, oh Sam, you're so hot, I... That night I couldn't get enough, I shoved in so deep, just pounding into you..."

Sam's body shook as he curled on himself, slamming his fingers in, twisting to find the right spot, Tim was always so good at that, his other hand working his cock, groaning.

"More. _More_, Tim," he begged.

"Oh fuck! I had you up against the headboard, and I was ramming into you, your face was so red and I love it! So beautiful, Sam. God, your tight heat, gripping me, you feel so good, oh-oh-_oh_-"

Sam jammed his fingers in, hitting his prostate, hand flying over his cock. "Tim! Fuck, ah, _Tim_!"

"Sam! Sam! Sam!" Tim came, shaking, shooting over his chest, gasping.

Sam writhed, fucking himself hard, hearing Tim's voice, and he shouted inarticulately as his orgasm zinged through his body, ass clenching, cock aching, his belly almost cramping as he hunched tightly, shuddering through the intense climax. As he finally finished coming, Sam slid his fingers out of himself. He felt an uneasy sense of shame at having done that, and he quickly cleaned up and switched his phone off speaker.

"Oh, Sam. Thank you. I'm ready to just zonk out now. That was so hot..." Tim told him quietly. Sam smiled at the satisfied exhaustion he heard in Tim's voice.

"Yeah, that's intense. But you don't have to thank me. Ever. It was...really good for me, too, baby," Sam swallowed hard. "I can't wait to see you again."

"Wish I could hold you...'m falling asleep, Sam," Tim mumbled.

"It's okay. Go to sleep, love," Sam breathed.

"'Night. Love you..."

"Good-night, Tim."

Sam sighed as he put his phone back on the nightstand and tossed the lube back in the drawer. The buzz of his orgasm hummed through his body still as he climbed under the covers and pulled a pillow against his chest. It was cold comfort, but was something.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

_A/N If you're enjoying the Home series, please review! I'd just love to hear what ya'll think._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N Sorry about the little shorty chapter. The next will be longer. Enjoy and review, please!_

Chapter Five

"By accounts these were all accidents, Boss," Tim shook his head. He'd helped with interviews and then gone back to his specialty, with little more success. He pointed to a list on his laptop screen, Gibbs leaning over his shoulder to look. "And these," he pulled up another list, "are washouts without reported injury. Here's the previous rate of washouts from ten years ago." The graphic depiction showed a marked difference there as well. "I shoulda thought to look at that before, Boss. But check this out," Tim pulled up another graph, collating all data. "This shows the last ten years with every cadet who left before graduation. Started, like you said, six years ago, but there was no reduction of incidence when the staff turned over. Not even a blip."

"Anything happen around the time it all started?"

Tim shook his head. "The only employees who started when the increase in losses began were transferred or fired last year during the staff turnover. There have been no renovations, construction, long term guests, or projects of any kind which have lasted through the whole increase."

"Links between the vics? Including the washouts?"

"Working on it, but so far, they're men and women, all races, from California to Maine, different socio-economic backgrounds, some were scholarship recipients, others are naval royalty. Admiral Jessup's daughter washed out last year, Admiral Park's son two years previous. Those two are somewhat unusual; kids of high-ranking Naval officials rarely wash out."

"I'll have DiNozzo and Ziva interview them," Gibbs said.

"Pretty thin, Boss."

"It's the only oddity you've mentioned. You got a better idea?"

"No, it's just... I'm sure the Jessup and Park kids will have taken a lot of grief already," Tim winced as he imagined how his father would have reacted had it been him.

"Still gotta talk to them. Why don't you do those interviews?"

"Sure, Boss."

But even after speaking with the two former cadets, Tim was frustratingly in the dark, and after a week of investigating, Gibbs' team returned to headquarters to regroup.

Running every kind of analysis he could think of, from groundskeepers to guest speakers, time of day during accidents to witness voice variance, Tim was looking at everything.

"Boss, I got something. No idea what it means and it could be an anomaly, but-"

"Put it up on the plasma," Gibbs ordered. DiNozzo and Ziva joined Gibbs before the screen. A map of the United States came up, red dots popping into place all over the top half.

"The red dots indicate the home town of each victim," Tim said. Blue dots appeared. "This is the washouts," Tim explained. "There's only one southerner in either group, otherwise everyone is north of the Mason-Dixon line."

"Check backgrounds for southern biases. It's not much, but if it's all we got..."

The team scrambled back to their desks. Tim felt his phone buzz with a text but started a search running before he looked at it.

S-narrowing our search. Hoping to be done by thurs or fri. U?-

T-nearly nothing, &amp; investigation will be ongoing. I'll get home to sleep a little each night unless we catch a break, but no free time. :-( -

S-even sleeping with you will be something. Can I stay at your apt when D goes back?-

T-of course. It'll be nice to think of u there. Jethro hasn't been home in a while- u wanna p/u?-

S-will do. I'll keep u updated when we're going in.-

T-stay safe, love-

S-u too-

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Having found a handful of staff members who might possibly have a bias in favor of southerners, Tony and Ziva had gone back to question some of the office workers. Using his considerable charm to good effect during the interview with a lieutenant, DiNozzo turned his attention to a young black secretary in the office of the registrar. She was less responsive than the previous woman, and Ziva watched her closely. When they had completed the last of the interviews and were back in the squad room, pieces fell into place with a report Tim found that the secretary had filed.

"So she had a problem with how Commander Rogers _looked_ at her? Enough that she filed an actual complaint? C'mon, really?" DiNozzo scoffed.

"She _was_ uncomfortable with your interrogation style," Ziva offered.

"What, the flirting? Women usually go for that," Tim added, half smirking. "Unless they know you. Did you ever date her?"

"Check out Rogers," Gibbs ordered, forestalling Tony's response to the teasing.

"Boss! Because he _looked_ at her wrong?" Tony protested.

"No, DiNozzo, because _I_ said so. We got nothin', so we're gonna run down every possible lead, you got that?" Gibbs snapped.

"Uh, Boss? We may have a problem. Rogers went on leave yesterday, saying his sister needed help with her kids," Tim began. Gibbs nodded sharply.

"No sister?"

"Well, there's a sister in Iowa, but no kids, Boss, and he took a car from the Academy, so-" typing quickly, Tim ran the gps trace. "What's the car doing in Middleton, Delaware?"

"Let's go find out," Gibbs snatched his coffee cup and jacket, and the rest of the team rushed to join him in the elevator, Tim rapidly setting his computer to run a full background search and send results to his phone before he skidded between the doors just before they closed.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam had called all three of Dean's cell phones when he discovered the identity of their target. Getting no response, he dug deeper, feeling a sense of urgency, and decided not to wait any longer when his suspicions were confirmed. Commander Tyler Rogers had joined the staff at the Academy after the turnover, and then had changed personality enough to lose his girlfriend, alienate his friends, and receive repeated emails from his sister complaining about his lack of contact. Couple that with a hidden bank account with nearly unlimited funds and several contacts in the black market's arms community, and Sam was certain they had to stop him, _now_. And if Dean wasn't responding, well, Sam would have to do it himself.

Gathering the supplies for the witch-killing molotov took until mid-afternoon, then Sam headed out for the address he'd come across for a warehouse in Delaware. He left messages on Dean's phones, trying not to sound as pissed off as he felt.

When he arrived, Sam circled the warehouse carefully, noting the likely points of entry and trying to find a way scout the interior so he wouldn't have to go in blind. It was late in the afternoon and the warehouse district was deserted. His phone buzzed.

D-on my way. Do NOT go in without backup damnit-

Sam rolled his eyes but backed off. He hated waiting, but it would be safer if he had backup. His mind drifted to seeing Tim when this was over, of taking Jethro out for walks, being in the wonderful cocoon of Tim's apartment with his things and scent everywhere. Sleeping in Tim's bed, with Tim in his arms...

A muffled sound caught Sam's attention. He moved closer to the building, and the scream grew clearer. It sounded like a woman, and he knew he was done waiting. He returned to a door he'd determined was unlocked, and, crouching low, he opened it and slipped inside.

~~~SPNCIS~~~


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Tim's phone buzzed an alert. Glad to have a distraction from Gibbs' crazy-fast driving, he skimmed the results.

"Uh-oh. Boss, Rogers bought a bus," he said. He scrolled around his background search results and groaned again. He sent an urgent email to a contact, shaking his head, then went to the Academy Events page of the internal web site. He didn't see the deep frown Gibbs was wearing or see the frustrated glances his boss kept throwing at him as seconds passed after his declaration.

"McGee, _what_!" Gibbs snapped, his voice so loud in the enclosed vehicle Tim jumped and nearly dropped his phone.

"Oh, uh, just got background search results. There's a group from the Academy going out to NASA's Langley facility tomorrow. Rogers lead the selection team, and..." Tim cross referenced the participants with his list of northern-born cadets and nodded. "They're all northerners, and they'll be bused..." He searched again. "On the same kind of bus Rogers bought. He also made a hefty purchase at an auto body shop. Could be paint. If he's planning to swap the buses, maybe plant a bomb... The location of his gps is a warehouse district. It'd be a great place to prep something like that."

"Brief Tony and Ziva," Gibbs ordered, flooring the accelerator. Tim looked over his shoulder toward the car his team mates were in. It dropped back then sped to catch up at the increase in speed. Tim called them.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam groaned as he regained consciousness. He was pinned against the wall of the warehouse well above where the demon stood beside his makeshift altar with a woman laid out on top of it. She was sobbing quietly; there was blood on her face and arms from cuts the demon had made.

"Bit of a cliché, isn't it?" Sam said. Dean was on his way; Sam just had to play for time and try to keep the demon distracted until he arrived. His approach had been noted, apparently, and he'd been neatly trapped, the witch-killing supplies smashed, his gun knocked from his hand and casually thrown beneath the altar.

"Sometimes the classics just work," Rogers replied. His voice now had a strong southern lilt to it, and Sam cocked his head.

"Most demons don't remember where they came from when they were human. Why are you so special?"

"Huh, did my accent give me away?" The demon smirked. He continued mixing ingredients next to the woman.

"Well, that and you being a witch," Sam conceded.

"They came over as labor, who knew I'd learn so much? All that power, and the old man wouldn't use any of it to save him or his people. I was quite the actor even then, gettin' him to tell me all about the power, makin' believe I was all goody-goody. He sure was surprised when I gutted him to get the owner's daughter all soft on me."

"Is that how you ended up in hell?"

The demon turned and his eyes flashed black. "That's just impolite to ask," he informed Sam. Sam laughed.

"Yeah, that's my big concern. Politeness."

The demon shrugged and turned back to his spell work. He sprinkled something onto a small charcoal brazier and it flared a putrid purple-gray smoke for a moment.

"Did a hunter get you?" Sam persisted. "There were some legendary hunters down south." The demon didn't respond so Sam took a chance and pushed him, all the while looking around for any sign of Dean. "Before the north stomped you, anyway."

"Damned yankees," the demon muttered. Sam continued to needle him, trying to distract him from his work and slow him down, without pushing so far the creature just killed him.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The NCIS team arrived at the general location of the gps signal and spread out to search for their suspect. They found a rental car a block away, and Tim frowned at the name that came up on the rental agreement when he searched the plates: Samuel Osbourne, one of Sam's aliases. It had to be a coincidence... But he bit his lip and shook his head at the idea. He'd worked with Gibbs too long not to have a great suspicion of coincidence. With a knot in his stomach, he resumed the search with his team.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The demon began cutting into the woman on the altar again. She screamed piercingly.

"Hey! She's not gonna last for your spell. Better use me instead," Sam called. Adrenalin was flowing through him and he trembled with the need to do something, anything, to stop what was happening to the woman.

"Nice try, you stupid huntin' bastard. But this little gal is just the right blood for just the right time. Plus, she almost spoiled my placement at the Academy when she noticed me watchin' her. She's tough, like her ancestor was. Blood calls to blood, and the idea that one of my children's' children mixed with filthy monkey blood makes this just sweet justice."

"You are one twisted fucker," Sam growled. The demon turned back to him and arched one eyebrow, the look reminding Sam in a sickening way of one of Tim's expressions.

"_Demon_," he said, the word soaked in the feeling 'duh'. He went back to carving on the woman, and Sam slammed his head back against the wall impotently. Movement caught his attention, a flash of white across the dim interior of the warehouse. He stared, trying to see it again.

"Yes, we have company. Just relax, they ain't gonna stop me," the demon muttered to Sam. He bent and picked up Sam's gun. "They'll come in like they think they can do anything with me, then maybe I'll just-" he snapped his fingers and jerked his head to indicate snapping their necks. He snickered and continued to list the other possible dooms awaiting the people who had the audacity to interrupt him while Sam choked, thinking furiously what he could yell that would clear the building of security or police or whoever had stumbled into this nightmare.

He took a deep breath to shout his chosen warning, but a ball of invisible, solid nothing filled his mouth. He could make a muffled grunt, but that was all. He growled and thrashed his head. He saw the flash of white again and his eyes filled with horror as he recognized the lean form beneath the silvery-white crown of hair. Gibbs. And with Gibbs would be his team, including Tim. He had to do something! Panting, trying not to panic, he concentrated hard and attempted to move any part of his body. His left hand twitched, and he closed his eyes in relief. There was a chance. He struggled and his fingers moved a fraction toward his pocket.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The team had heard screaming, and zeroed in on the building, gaining entrance and dividing up to sweep the area. Gibbs and Tony split left, Tim and Ziva right. They moved cautiously, scouting.

Tim and Ziva rounded some crates and caught sight of the Commander. He had a knife in one hand and a gun in the other. He raised the knife over the figure on the table before him, and she gave a piteous shriek of fear. Tim glanced at Ziva, who nodded, indicating she would cover him, aimed carefully, then stepped out.

"Federal agents, drop the weapons!" Tim shouted. The man whirled and began firing in his direction. Tim dropped, firing two rounds, and rolled behind a crate.

Peeking around the corner of the crate with one eye when he heard Ziva firing, Tim tried to get a bead on the Commander, and he froze. Across the dimness, through the mote filled air, he saw the familiar shape of Sam, up against the far wall. He was up off the floor, maybe on an unseen ledge, but while his head moved slightly, he seemed immobile otherwise. No. No ledge. Pinned ten feet up by an unseen force. _Demon_. His blood froze and he stared. The careful matrix he'd been building in his mind to try to find a way he could go on if Sam was no longer in his life was suddenly revealed to be made of breakaway glass. Seeing Sam held by a demon was all the tap it took to shatter. There would be no living without Sam. Tim couldn't make out Sam's expression, and suddenly that was the most important thing in the world. He began to move across the vast open space, feet shuffling, drawn directly forward as if by a cord. His awareness encompassed nothing else, just Sam.

"McGee, get down!" DiNozzo roared. He lay down covering fire. When Tim kept moving slowly forward even as shots from the far side of the warehouse began kicking up dust near Tim's feet, Tony acted. "Ziva! Cover!" The woman obeyed and the firing at Tim stopped. DiNozzo charged him, angling so that when he dove for Tim, they both ended flat out behind machinery, several yards from where Gibbs had just appeared. He saw in the seconds he was sprinting at Tim that there was a man against the far wall who had been Tim's direct trajectory. And now Tim was fighting, twisting, kicking Tony off of him, trying desperately to rise, so Tony clutched his arm, yanking him back under cover.

"What the hell are you doing, McGee?!" DiNozzo demanded, still struggling to keep his probie behind cover. Tim gave a tremendous jerk trying to free himself from Tony's grip.

"_He's my lover_!" Tim exploded, face red, furious, overwhelmed with desperation at seeing Sam held helplessly. Demon. There was a demon. They always seemed drawn to Sam, and they were terrifying. Tim shuddered, breathing hard.

DiNozzo's head snapped back like he'd taken a punch. He released Tim's arm and fell back on his butt, staring at his partner. "_What_?!" His voice cracked up two octaves.

"Later, DiNozzo. We got two civilians being held by Commander Rogers. Take Ziva and circle around back, find another way inside," Gibbs ordered.

"Boss, Sam's brother has got to be around somewhere. Dean's a hothead, and he'll be armed," Tim added. Tony looked between Tim and his boss, but the glare from Gibbs got him moving.

"Right, Boss," DiNozzo replied, and made his circuitous way to Ziva, staying behind cover.

"We've got to get Sam out of there, Boss! Please, I'll do anything, _please_, just-" Tim's eyes were enormous in his paper-white face; such terror in them that Gibbs worried the younger man might pass out. He put a weathered hand to Tim's cheek, cutting the flow of words with the gesture.

"_I know_, Tim."

The look of determination in Gibbs' eyes brought a measure of calm to Tim, and he slowly nodded. Gibbs inclined his head, and Tim followed. They worked their way around some of the larger equipment toward the door through which Rogers would have entered. A familiar form crouched by the sedan from the Academy.

"Dean," Tim hissed. The hunter turned and scowled. He ignored Gibbs.

"What are you doin' here?" Dean snarled. He appeared to be fiddling with a bottle, stuffing a cloth into the mouth. He'd arrived only to find Sam a prisoner, some chick being carved up like a turkey, and now a bunch of damn civvies.

"The guy's Navy," Tim snapped. Dean rolled his eyes and gave Tim a hard stare. Tim cocked his head at Gibbs and Dean shrugged.

"Well he's got my brother, and I'm gonna get him back," Dean replied. "The guy is _really_ dangerous."

"I got two other agents looking for a way in behind him," Gibbs stated. "We got this. McGee, get him outta here."

Tim considered. "Boss, Dean can help. I'll stay with him. You flank him and we'll keep Rogers focused on us." He could see Gibbs didn't like it, but they held eye contact for a long moment, then he agreed with a sharp nod. He moved away. Tim pulled out his spare clip and removed a bullet. He flicked his knife open and began carving on the tip. "Demon, right?"

"You need to get outta here. Make shit up, get your team clear so I can do my job."

"I'm helping Sam. Do you have a devil's trap set anywhere? What's your plan? Can Cas help? Is Benny around?" Tim carefully scribed a tiny pentagram onto the bullet, then pulled another and started repeating the process. His mind was working furiously, trying to figure out a way to get his team out of the way, what explanation he'd have to come up with, how to get Sam out safe.

"The hell are you talking about? Get your guys and get out."

Tim looked up and met Dean's glare with a look of his own. "No. We're doing this together."

Dean was taken aback by the fevered intensity in Tim's gaze. He finally noticed what Tim was doing to his ammo and he grunted in surprised approval. If Tim knew enough about demons to turn his bullets into mini devil's traps that would immobilize one, maybe he could be useful.

"This thing's too smart to walk into a trap, but those might help," Dean indicated the marked ammunition. "Damn thing's a witch, too. That's what this is for-" he held the bottle up. "I don't know if an exorcism will work, or if this molotov will do the trick. May need both. Bastard's smart. And it's just us, dude, don't ask. You know your people will just get in the way."

Tim's phone buzzed.

DiN-doors are all blocked-WTF?-

Tim shook his head. "Well the demon just took care of two of my team. Tony and Ziva are stuck outside. Gibbs... He's tough. If he sees what the demon can do, he'll handle it. He'll..." Tim swallowed hard at the thought. "He'll be a good distraction, anyway. He should be able to take care of himself. Let's go get this thing."

They made their plan and Tim tried to focus on what they needed to do and not on his own imminent demise should Sam die. He texted Gibbs, telling him to stay hidden, with little hope it would happen.

Dean carefully climbed the ladder to the narrow catwalk that ran the edge of the building. Tim waited until Dean signaled, then moved himself into line of sight of the demon, crouching low behind cover. He kept his eyes trained on the objective, but he ached with wanting to look at Sam.

The demon began chanting, and he seemed to have reached the final stage of his ritual. As he lifted the knife, Dean signed, Tim fired, and the witch killing spell was cast, the molotov of esoteric ingredients shattering against the demon's chest and quickly burning out. His body had jerked with the two shots Tim had landed, one in his upper back, the other in his right hamstring. Tim held his breath, then cried out when the demon gestured at Dean, who yelled as he was dragged over the narrow rail of the catwalk and slammed to the floor to lie pressed against the cold concrete. Firing his weapon, Tim stood and unloaded into the creature in fury. Its body again jerked with each impact, but otherwise ignored the shots. The molotov hadn't killed it, the bullets, of course, hadn't killed it, and as Tim began to call out the exorcism he'd memorized months before when he read the Supernatural books, he was gagged and also flung to the floor.

The three men watched and listened helplessly as the demon completed his chant and stabbed the screaming woman in the chest. Tim wanted to vomit, and Dean cussed loudly. Then silence reigned, until the demon began to swear a blue streak. It appeared that the spell or ritual had not gone as planned. The demon's upper body rotated, but his feet remained planted. He tried to turn right, then left, then his foul language rose to a howl he began tearing at his flesh, trying to pull the devil's trapped bullets out of his body.

Sam's struggle through the whole ten minutes it had taken since he'd spotted Gibbs finally bore fruit. Buried in his jeans' pocket, his fingers moved across the screen of his smartphone and a recording of an exorcism began to play.

The demon writhed, clawing to try to reach the last two bullets in his back, ignoring the sound.

Tim finally realized that the demon was laughing amidst his profanity and railing at them.

"Stupid yankees, all you fuckin' yankees! You think all southerners are morons! I'm locked in this body you imbeciles! I'll get these damn things out and complete my mission and the south shall rise!" The demon was on a roll, shouting about the changes that would occur, about putting people back in their places while his burned fingers dug at the bullet hole in his upper back.

Gibbs moved up silently behind him, a knife in his hands. Tim caught sight of him and shook his head, fighting the invisible weight that kept him pinned to the floor.

"Boss, no!" Tim tried to scream, tried to warn Gibbs that a knife wouldn't work on the demon, but the low hiss that emerged from his throat was unnecessary. When the blade slid home, between the ribs, next to the spine, a blow designed to sever the abdominal artery and the spinal cord when the knife was twisted and jerked sideways, the demon within the Commander lit up, flashing like a lightning storm from eyes, mouth, nose, pores, and then the body dropped, demon and host dead. Tim's head whipped back to Sam, who had dropped ten feet and lay in a heap. Tim scrambled up and ran to him, his vision narrowing to nothing but Sam.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N I'm not always confident in my writing of action, so I hope this was at least clear, even if it wan't as suspenseful as I hoped. Review?


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N Another short chapter, but there's only one left after this._

Chapter Seven

"But...that looks like a damn ka-bar; it can't be a demon-killing knife!" Dean protested to Gibbs as he went to join the older man where he stood over the dead demon and the equally dead sacrificial victim.

"The blade is," the taciturn man stated with a shrug.

Tim heard, his mind programmed to pick up Gibbs' voice, and some part of him was shocked that Gibbs had knowledge of demons, but his attention was on Sam, on holding him and kissing him and making sure he was safe. Sam had bruises, Tim could feel bumps as he ran his hands over the body he knew so well, but everything seemed intact.

"Ten fingers, ten toes, yes, the stick between his legs is there, too," Sam murmured. Tim gave a half-laugh, half-sob and clutched him to his chest. Sam ached a little from being beaten and then thrown around by invisible powers, but it was all in a day's work for him. Seeing Tim, stunned and walking into the hail of bullets the demon had been firing? That was new. And _horrible_.

Support arrived, announced by sirens wailing, the doors having become unblocked with the demon's demise, and Sam was descended upon by paramedics as he was the only one still lying on the ground. Looking across at his brother, he huffed that Dean was able to brush them off and move into the background. The medical personnel pushed Tim aside, and, keeping his attention mostly on Sam, he moved over toward where the rest of his team now stood together.

"Boss?" Tim checked in as he approached.

"We're good," Gibbs replied.

DiNozzo was speaking softly into his phone, summoning Ducky, and Ziva was frowning and studying Tim. Gibbs put his hand on Tim's back briefly, letting it drop only when Tim nodded to him in acknowledgement of the supportive gesture.

Tim's head continued to nod as he watched the medics finishing checking Sam, allowing him to get up. He wanted to ask his boss how he had ended up with an ancient weapon designed to kill demons, but he figured that would have to wait for a lot more privacy. He contented himself with staring as Sam went to stand with Dean.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

"Where the hell were you, man?" Sam asked Dean lowly.

"Cas needed a favor," Dean said in a clipped voice, obviously trying to end the conversation there. Sam wasn't about to drop it, though.

"What was more important than what we were supposed to be doing here?" Sam snapped. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.

"It's your fault," Dean muttered.

"Excuse me?" Sam's eyes widened.

"You. All this crap with Tim, dude. You...you put _ideas_ in his head," Dean mumbled. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Sam's jaw dropped.

"He... What did he do, Dean?"

Dean clenched his jaw and refused to answer.

"Did Cas...put the moves on you?" Sam felt hilarity bubbling up inside him. He knew it was half due to the relief of surviving, giddiness from adrenalin, but he also had watched Cas watching Dean for so long that he'd suspected the feelings the angel had harbored for his brother were more than fraternal.

"He doesn't know what he's sayin'. He's just... I don't wanna talk about it," Dean snapped. Sam clamped down on his laughter, his shoulders shaking but no sound emerging. They stood in uncomfortable silence.

"You could do worse," Sam finally offered in a low voice. Dean turned on him, getting aggressively in his face.

"We are _not_ discussing this!" Dean hissed. Sam sniffed, compressing his lips, and turned his attention back to Tim.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Tony drew Tim aside. "I've just got one question, McGee," he said. Tim nodded, his gaze never leaving where Sam was talking with Dean. The paramedics had apparently cleared him, but Tim was still breathing in Sam's presence, alive and well. "Are you a pitcher or a catcher?"

Tim turned his head and stared at DiNozzo. "_Really_?" He asked in total disgust. He shook his head and walked away, moving to be with Sam and reassure himself yet again the hunter was truly okay. Sam saw him coming and moved to intercept him halfway across the warehouse, hugging him when they met.

"Thank you, baby. _Oh god_, when I saw you walking into that gunfire..." Sam squeezed him tightly, taking Tim's breath away. Tim could feel Sam shaking and knew his own knees were wobbly.

"I know, I know," Tim whispered. They broke apart and let go of each other reluctantly. Sam nodded toward where DiNozzo was watching them, and Tim sighed and inclined his head, indicating they should approach Tony. "Tony, this is Sam. Sam, Special Agent Tony DiNozzo," Tim introduced. Tim gave Tony a hard look. The men shook hands.

"Pleasure to meet you. You're not...what I expected, but I'm glad Tim's happy," Tony said sincerely. He'd been totally thrown for a loop by Tim's revelation, but he had recognized how content Tim had been since he'd been seeing his mystery love interest, so he set his confusion aside for the moment.

Ziva approached and Tim introduced her as well. She shook Sam's hand and gave Tim an approving look. He chuckled, understanding that Ziva's attraction to muscular, powerful men meant that while she found Sam to be to her own taste, she also thought him a good match for Tim.

"I've heard a lot about you guys. I hope we can get together sometime, now that you know," Sam offered quietly. Tim stepped closed to him and let their arms brush. Sam leaned into the contact, itching to wrap his arm around Tim but self-conscious for both of them.

"That will be a good thing. McGee has told us nothing about you," Ziva agreed. Tim shrugged uncomfortably.

"This that guy you wanted me to meet?" Dean asked, approaching the group.

"Yeah. Dean, Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, Tony, Sam's brother, Dean," Tim offered.

"_Whoa_, McMatchmaker, you know I'm not interested in experimenting," Tony protested, but it was Dean who replied.

"No, uh-uh, I'm no qu-" Dean broke off and glanced at Tim. "I am _not_ into guys. I just like movies, and Tim said you do, too."

"Hmm. Okay, so, best Bond."

"Connery, but Daniel Craig is pretty cool."

"Favorite tough guy?"

"Tied, Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson."

"A little obvious, but okay..." The pair moved away, still talking.

Ziva studied Sam. "You will take care of McGee."

"Yes," Sam replied, and the protectiveness overwhelmed his concerns and he put his arm around Tim and they drew close, Tim's hand immediately going to Sam's waist and gripping tightly. Their heads inclined toward one another and Tim watched the approval in Ziva's eyes, smiling slightly.

"You guys should ghost out of here," Tim whispered. "We have to wait for Ducky and finish with the scene. It'll take a while. You and Dean could go to the apartment if you want."

"That sounds good, baby," Sam turned his head to whisper the response in Tim's ear and he let his lips linger in Tim's hair for an extra moment. Tim ached to turn and wrap both arms around Sam, but he knew he had to finish his job. With a final squeeze, Sam released him and wandered back to Dean. Within a few minutes, they'd quietly left the warehouse.

~~~SPNCIS~~~


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Final chapter. I hope you liked this. Please review.

Chapter 8

After the sad task of removing both bodies had been accomplished, the team headed back to DC. Tim gave Gibbs only the time to drive out of the warehouse complex before he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Boss... The knife?"

"Yeah?"

"How'd you know it would kill him?"

Gibbs shrugged. "The spell fried his witch abilities, you had him in a trap, and from what he was saying, he was a relatively young one, so he wouldn't have been immune to the blade."

Tim's mouth hung open. "But..."

"_What_, McGee?" He snapped. He glanced out the side window so Tim wouldn't see the half-smile he couldn't contain.

"How do you know so much about demons?"

"One thing I never could stand about Stillwater; the annual demon migration."

Tim continued to stare but remained speechless for the rest of the drive.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

"I just don't understand why McGee wouldn't tell me," Tony ruminated. They were back at headquarters doing their paperwork, and DiNozzo was talking, as usual.

"Probably for the same reason Sam was hesitant to tell his brother, Tony. You aren't the kind of guys who would understand," Tim said, coming in and sitting down at his desk.

"You could've gotten fired for this, probie. Secrets don't go over well when we have security clearances at the level we have," Tony admonished.

Tim looked to the side, then back to his computer screen. "Gibbs knew," he admitted softly.

"You told Gibbs?! You didn't tell me but you told-"

"I did not _tell_ Gibbs. He knew. He knows everything."

Tony considered. "True." He looked hard at McGee. "I still don't understand-"

"Drop it, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered. He walked across the squad room to his desk. "McGee, go home."

"Boss?"

"Take the rest of the day off. See you Monday," Gibbs said, sitting down and already rifling through a file.

Tim stared for a moment, then understanding flooded him. He could go be with Sam. After what had just happened, it was everything he wanted in the world. He obeyed.

"Thanks, boss," he said fervently.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Tim quietly let himself into his apartment.

"-no, no, _no_! Die, you fucker!"

Tim heard the strange voice but immediately registered that it was Dean, probably playing a video game. He hung his jacket and came into the living space. Dean sat at his computer, headset on, playing a first person shooter. Tim went looking for Sam.

"He's in the shower," Dean informed him. Tim turned back.

"Hey, Dean. Didn't want to disturb your game there," he said. He felt as if a cord was tugging him toward his bedroom to get to Sam, and he stepped sideways in that direction.

"This game is awesome, dude! You go...be with Sammy, just don't...not while I'm here, okay?"

"Yeah," Tim rolled his eyes. "Play your game. _Dude_." He went into the bedroom and closed the door. He stripped down, knowing his clothes had the stink of adrenalin and fear as well as dirt from the warehouse floor on them, and joined Sam in the shower. When the curtain moved, Sam immediately pulled him in and hugged him close. "Gibbs sent me home," Tim offered softly.

"I'm glad," Sam said. His chest grew tight and his eyes filled. "Oh baby, I was so worried..." He choked. Tim tightened his arms around Sam.

"_You_ were? All I knew was a homicidal demon had you," Tim buried his face in the crook of Sam's neck. "Or is that redundant?" His last words were muffled.

Sam coughed a laugh. "Sometimes." He turned his head and captured Tim's lips, kissing him hard. His tongue parted them insistently, reaction setting in and transforming into need. Tim held tight to him for a moment, his body responding in kind, but then pulled away slightly.

"Dean-said not to-while he's here..." Tim gasped.

"Fuck him," Sam pulled on Tim's ass, forcing their erections together between them. He kissed down Tim's neck.

"I'd rather fuck you," Tim replied with a half-smile, and threw caution to the wind. He needed the reassurance of the physical connection to his partner just as much as Sam did.

They kissed desperately, clinging to each other. Finally, Sam gasped. "I need to feel you, now," he demanded. Tim nodded and Sam turned around. Thinking furiously, Tim didn't want to try to use any of the hair products or body washes he had in the shower. The lube was in his night stand in the bedroom... Tim improvised, hoping it would work out. He spit on his hand and used the saliva on Sam, then pushed close before the hot water could wash it away. He hesitated, but Sam wasn't ready to wait and leaned back; in one sharp motion Tim was inside him. Tim went with it. They were both highly stimulated and it wasn't more than twenty strokes before Tim felt his orgasm building. He reached around to jack Sam and was rewarded with his lover's hoarse warning that he was almost there. Tim closed his eyes and gave himself totally over to the sensation of being one with Sam. Sam, safe, in his arms, whole and his.

Sam basked in Tim's loving attention. He was so relieved Tim was here, with him, inside him. He felt himself start to come just as the delicious feeling of Tim doing the same started. He orgasmed, his body tensing and shaking.

The tightening of Sam on his dick while they climaxed simultaneously overwhelmed Tim and he cried out, holding Sam tight against him but bracing against the wall with one outstretched arm to keep them from falling.

They shakily finished showering and dried off.

"I could sleep a week," Sam groaned. Tim offered one of his MIT t-shirts to Sam with a pair of sweatpants.

"You need to leave some clothes here," Tim observed. His uncertainty about Sam's commitment to him had been buried deep with their closeness, and when Sam beamed at the suggestion, he felt more hopeful still. The way the t-shirt stretched across Sam's broad shoulders was fantastic, and with a light-hearted giddiness, part of Tim considered buying his lover shirts a size too small in the future.

When they came out into the living room, they received an awful look from Dean. He pointed at Tim.

"What did I say?" Dean demanded accusatorially.

Tim shrugged and headed for the kitchen. He didn't feel very bad about having made a bit of noise with Sam in the shower. Dean could've kept the headphones on. Sam glowered. "Don't blame Tim," he protested. Dean turned on him.

"Dude, I never want to have to listen to you have sex. _Ever_. Not with him or a woman or anyone," Dean growled.

"How many times have _I_ had to-"

"_Naaa_!" Dean interrupted. Tim laughed from the kitchen and the brothers turned.

"Guys, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. You want pizza?" Tim smoothly steered the conversation away from sex. "Dean, I've got a six pack in here. It's an import, but it is beer."

"Yeah, I'll take one," Dean replied. Tim cracked it and handed him the bottle, Dean nodding thanks. Tim called in a delivery order for a large double meat pizza and two salads, trying to placate Dean a little with the heavy meal and take care of Sam with the healthy side. Only a tiny part of him snickered when he told the restaurant 'double meat'.

In the living room, Tim and Sam sat close on the sofa and Dean rolled the video game chair over. Sam lounged and put his arm on the back of the couch behind Tim, and, as the three men talked, occasionally touched Tim's shoulder or back. Each time, Tim unconsciously leaned closer to Sam.

The pizza arrived and they ate. Dean worked his way through Tim's entire six pack and finally began to notice how touchy feely the other two were getting.

"That's my cue. I'm going to the motel. We can head back home in the morning," Dean said, standing up and stretching. He stared as he received matching frowns from Tim and Sam.

"I'm gonna stay for a while, Dean. I'll get back on my own," Sam said tightly.

"Jeez, Sammy, you were just together like two weeks ago!"

"Dean-" Sam started, his voice sharp. Tim put his hand on Sam's leg to stop him.

"Sam's staying where I can see him for a bit. I almost lost him and I'm not letting him go anywhere for a while," Tim spoke firmly. Dean narrowed his eyes and then rolled them and shrugged.

"Whatever. I may have to start looking for a replacement hunter, dude. You're a part timer these days," Dean complained.

Sam sat ramrod straight on the edge of the couch. "Yeah, maybe you should," he said tightly. Tim's hand on his thigh was the only thing keeping him from jumping up to get in Dean's face.

"Thank you for understanding about the next few days, Dean," Tim said reasonably.

A few more tense minutes passed and Dean departed. The tension drained from Sam, who wrapped Tim up in a tight hug the moment Tim locked the door. Tim buried his face in Sam's neck and just clung to him.

By mutual unspoken consent they went right to bed, sliding naked between the sheets and resuming the close embrace. Intimate skin contact soon led to feverish kisses and additional reassurances each was safe and alive. Tender caresses, sweet words of love, and when Tim rolled on top of Sam and slid into him, an almost painful intensity to their lovemaking brought both to tears. They lay holding each other as their bodies and minds began to calm.

"I don't think I'd survive if anything happened to you," Sam whispered as he pulled Tim close to go to sleep. Tim's eyes grew wide.

"Oh, Sam," he sighed. "I don't know what the future will be, I just know that I will love you every day for the rest of my life, and beyond, if possible."

Sam crushed him to his chest, blinking rapidly. "Always, Tim. I'll always love you."

They lay together for a long time, and Tim's mind ran and re-ran the day, unable or unwilling to settle mentally for fear of the dreams which might come.

"Ziva thinks you're hot," Tim murmured. Sam was taken aback by the sudden comment but knew well how Tim's mind worked constantly and so he just went with it.

"Mm? She's gorgeous, man, isn't Dean more her style?"

"Big, muscular guys get her going, so you, my burly lover, caught her eye."

"Huh."

Tim lay with his head on Sam's shoulder, playing his fingers through the dark patch of chest hair between Sam's pecs.

"Is there anything you miss about being with women? I've gotten so used to you I barely even think about it anymore," Tim pondered aloud.

"Boobs, maybe?" Sam replied, voice indicating it wasn't any kind of big deal. Tim nodded in understanding then looked up at him with the mischievous look in his eyes Sam loved so well.

"I could get fat. I sort of had man boobs," he offered. Sam laughed and pulled him closer.

"No thanks baby, I'd rather have you healthy. I hope for a long, _long_ lifetime together."

Tim swallowed hard at that, his insecurity flaring. "Yeah? Together?"

"I don't want to live beyond your time, Tim...I never did," Sam's voice had dropped to a whisper.

"But... That Night..." Tim's body tensed. Concern-confusion-fear sent adrenalin back into his system and his heart started pounding.

"I was wishing I could die," Sam explained quietly. "I thought I'd snapped and gone crazy and was hallucinating you. I told you, I can't seem to leave living, no matter how many times I die. But I didn't _want_ to live, Tim. Not without you. What I wanted, thinking I had driven you off, was to just lay there and die."

Tim felt all the pain and fear he'd carried since That Night; feelings of inadequacy, worries Sam didn't care as much as he did, didn't need him the way he needed Sam, needing him just to survive, they sheared off like a rockslide and, scraping him raw as they went, vanished into whatever abyss the insecurities that plagued him went when they were disproved. He felt exposed, tender to the point of pain, and the only way to heal was to get rid of it, vomit it out in an excess of tears, and words; he began crying, and he had to have more reassurances from Sam, so he choked out phrases between the sobs which suddenly wracked him.

"I thought - You. You were gonna live - I thought... You _freaked _\- you'd leave- tried...figure a way to survive - Was waiting... You were gonna - Sam, _don't ever leave me_!"

Sam crushed Tim against himself, wrapping him up in arms and legs and putting his face hard against Tim's. "_No_! God, oh god, Tim I'm never gonna let you go again. I love you! I love you _so_ much, and the only place I ever feel I belong is with you. Please, oh god, you thought... All this time? I'm sorry, baby. I'm _so sorry_. I knew I'd hurt you but I never imagined... All this time you were waiting for me to freak out again?! No. No-no-no, not _ever_, Tim, I'm yours. I'm yours til the end of everything. I wanna live with you and breathe with you and hold you forever. I'm sorry I hurt you, baby, I'm so, so _sorry_!" Sam cried with him, and this time the tears were healing instead of desperate, a balm instead of an ineffectual band-aid.

Sam's words, the honesty of them, the need to be clear and to be understood, flowed into Tim, soothing the weeks of hurt, reassuring him that no more would come; he was safe. Sam was with him, and he wasn't going anywhere.

They didn't need to go anywhere, since they were both already home.

The End

A/N Thanks everyone for the views and favorites and follows, especially my reviewers leobultler and DS2010. I posted a short flashback story depicting the summer the guys met at Stanford, titled A Long Way to Home, then a second one: Tim's Long Way to Home. I hope ya'll are enjoying this crazy Sam and Tim ride with me! I've put my Sam and Tim playlist on my profile if you're interested in music which inspired these stories. A Candle to Lead You Home has finally been posted, along with the deleted scenes from the writing of the Home series titles Lost along the Way Hom. I hope you'll like them!


End file.
